


Cruel Summer

by theworldunseen



Series: jb week 2019 [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Lifeguards, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cersei is in this story but like barely, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, No Incest, Pining, Smut, The opposite of a slow burn, ditto tywin, she's just mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 18:10:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20839829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theworldunseen/pseuds/theworldunseen
Summary: There are a lot of things Brienne doesn’t like about her job as a lifeguard at the King’s Landing Country Club. She doesn't like the uniform. She doesn't like the pool guests. She doesn't like her coworkers. No, she doesn't like one coworker — Jaime Lannister. And he refuses to leave Brienne alone.





	Cruel Summer

**Author's Note:**

> JB day 2! The prompt was summer, and I already had this idea for a fic based on Taylor Swift's "Cruel Summer." I would recommend putting it on to set the mood. I forgot to say their ages in this, but J and B are 21, maybe 22.

There are a lot of things Brienne doesn’t like about her job as a lifeguard at the King’s Landing Country Club.

She doesn’t like the uniform. At her old lifeguarding job at the community pool in Flea Bottom, which paid next to nothing, she could keep shorts and a shirt on over her bathing suit. If someone needed to be saved from drowning — an extremely rare occurrence, in actuality — she pulled her clothes off in a second before jumping in.

Instead, at _ the club, _ she has to wear a red one piece that would have looked appropriate on someone from _ Baywatch. _Someone lithe and curvy and sexy. Someone not Brienne Tarth, with her straight hips and no boobs and long torso and pale skin that’s always burning in the sun. She feels like she always has a wedgie, but it would be more embarrassing to pick it out, so she just walks around uncomfortable all the time. 

She doesn’t like the people who come to the pool. The adults are rude. The kids are brats. 

And she doesn’t like her coworkers. No, that’s unfair. Most of them are completely fine. She doesn’t like one coworker — Jaime Lannister.

He’s idiotically gorgeous. Brienne can admit that, even though she can’t stand the sight of him. He loves sitting shirtless in the lifeguard’s chair, sprawled out with not a care in the world. He walks around like he owns the place (which is sort of true — his father does). He’s like a golden, untouchable god, with his perfect chest and his low slung shorts and his enticing fucking _ chest hair. _

And, worst of all, he refuses to leave Brienne alone. He pesters her all day long, about the thick sunblock she wears, about the healthy lunches she eats, about her _ freckles. _ It’s exhausting.

The only reprieve she has at work from his perfect, annoying face is early in the morning, when she swims laps. This is the main reason she took this job — if she comes first thing in the morning, she can jump in the pool before she has to start working. She swims on KLU’s swim team, and she’s determined she’ll have a comeback season. She can’t practice on campus over the summer, since she needs to work _ somewhere, _ so it’s really the best of both worlds, getting paid and swimming laps.

One morning in early June she’s absolutely crushing it. Butterfly is her favorite stroke: It’s when she’s most grateful for her wide shoulders and long arms. That’s what she loves best about being in the pool — all the things about her body that cause her trouble on land are assets under water. Her giant feet are like flippers. Her large hands cut through the water like fins. He thick thighs let her push off the wall harder than the other women.

She’s in the zone, flying back and forth without a care in the world. There’s no country club, no annoying guests, no Jaime Lannister. Just Brienne and her goggles and all that water.

Eventually she realizes she has to stop, even though she doesn’t feel tired. She needs to rinse off and change into the lifeguard uniform suit. She surfaces when she hits the wall and stops to catch her breath. Then she places her palms flat on the ledge and lifts herself out of the pool. She takes off her goggles and her swim cap, shaking out her hair.

And that’s when she sees him. Jaime Lannister is sitting in the lifeguard’s chair, staring at her, mouth ajar. She’s never seen the look he has in his eyes before — and definitely not directed at her. She wants to look away and she wants to stare. She picks the latter.

“What?” she snaps at him. That makes him realize how foolish he looks, at least. He shuts his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything. She folds her arms across her chest and tries again. “What are you staring at?”

“Uh — I’m not staring.” She rolls her eyes and starts to walk to the locker room. “I didn’t know you could swim like that.” She turns back around and pins him with her gaze.

“Like what?”

“Like — like a mermaid,” he sputters out. She doesn’t dignify it with a response.

But something starts to change in the days after that. Well, maybe she’s just imagining it, but she feels like Jaime’s always looking at her, now. Every morning when she finishes her laps, Jaime’s in the chair again, watching. And, worse, it doesn’t really bother her. She tries not to think about it, which isn’t easy, because lifeguards don’t actually _ do _ that much. The highlight of her Thursday is when she blows her whistle at some teen boys harassing some girls in the shallow end. That’s a lot of time to think about stupid Jaime Lannister.

On Friday it’s cloudy when she gets to the pool. It looks like it might rain. That should mean a slow day, at least. Maybe she’ll get some reading done.

She strips down to her suit — her favorite one, bright blue with a racer back. She knows she doesn’t look exactly hot in it, because it would take a miracle for her to look hot, but it makes her feel good. 

Just before she’s about to jump in, it starts to pour. “Fuck,” she shrieks, grabbing all her clothes and running toward the main building. The few pool attendants who’d been setting up chairs and towels sprint around, grabbing anything that shouldn’t get wet. 

She opens the door and slams right into Jaime, sending her things to the floor.

“Ah, watch it, mermaid,” he says, putting his hands on her hips so she doesn’t fall over. He looks down at her bathing suit for a second too long, then looks back up to meet her eyes. He doesn’t move his hands. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s raining,” she says, leaning over to grab her stuff. He lets go of her. Just then, their supervisor, Selmy comes in and tells them the rain isn’t supposed to let up all day, so the pool staff can go home.

“Will we still get paid?” one of the attendants, Gendry, asks. They will. Another perk of working at a fancy club. Selmy walks away to send a staff wide email. Brienne looks wistfully out the window.

“I guess you didn’t get to swim your laps this morning,” Jaime says. She turns back to him.

“No,” she admits, not able to keep the note of sadness out of her voice. Jaime purses his lips. She remembers she’s still in a bathing suit and busies herself with putting her shirt back on.

“It might let up,” he says. She puts on her shorts, her flip flops.

“I’m not going to sit here all day in hopes that it stops raining,” she mumbles.

“You could come to my house,” he says. “We have a pool.” She raises her eyebrows. 

“You want me to sit around your house in hopes that it stops raining?” She bites her lip. He notices.

“We have a hot tub. Indoor.”

She should say no. He smirks. He knows she’s going to say yes. 

—

She can’t believe she’s in a hot tub with Jaime Lannister. His house (his father’s house) is huge. The hot tub isn’t really indoor — one side is a huge glass door that opens out onto the backyard and the enormous pool. She can see the rain still coming down outside.

He drove them here in his big, dumb SUV. He let her pick the music on the way, at least. He picked the playlist now, though. Bruce Springsteen. It plays low.

They float in silence. Brienne feels almost naked in her swimsuit, which is ridiculous because the uniform suit at work is even skimpier than this. But it’s the context. She feels exposed. He talks first.

“So you’re on the swim team,” he says. She thinks he might be nervous, too, which makes her feel better. “Are you any good?” She rolls her eyes.

“You’ve seen me swim. What do you think?” 

“I think you’re spectacular.” He says it so matter of fact that it sends shivers down her spine. He floats a little closer to her. 

“I’m alright,” she says. “Trying to get better.”

“That’s why you drink all those kale smoothies?” He’s making fun of her but she thinks she gets why now. She floats a little closer.

“They’re full of iron,” she says. “Vitamins, protein...the good stuff. So I can be stronger.” He nods. She can’t be coy. “Why am I here, Jaime?” He licks his lips, more an instinct than a seduction technique. She wants to tell him he doesn’t need to use any seduction techniques. She drifts closer without a thought.

“I didn’t think you’d say yes,” he admits. “But I wanted you to.” They’re next to each other on the bench. They can’t look each other in the eye. 

“Is anyone else home?” she asks, her voice a low rumble. She knows Jaime has siblings, though she can’t remember a single relevant detail about them right now. 

“No,” he chokes out. He turns his head to the left, looking at her now.

“Good,” she says. And in the slickest move of her entire fucking life, she lifts her left leg and straddles his lap and pulls his head to hers and meets his lips with one impossible kiss.

Except it’s not one kiss. It’s a million kisses. His mouth is so hot and wet and inviting underneath hers, and then he sort of _ growls _ and even if she wanted to stop (she definitely doesn’t), she wouldn’t be able to now. 

She pulls him closer, her hands running up and down the planes of his back. His skin is so soft and so smooth. His hands run up and down her hips and it feels like he’s tracing the entire shape of her body with his fingers, like he wants to be able to recreate it from memory. She pulls him closer still, rubbing her chest against his. She runs her right hand through the golden hair she finds there, the hair she’d fantasized about for weeks while sitting in her boring lifeguard chair. 

He kisses her neck, light touches that drive her crazy. His hands slide over her ass, pulling her further into his lap, somehow even closer. The last vestiges of her rational brain don’t even waste their energy telling her to stop. She’s so far gone. 

For a moment she can’t believe this is happening, that she’s dry humping Jaime Lannister in a hot tub, just like those rich teens in those soap operas Sansa got her into. 

Then she feels Jaime against her thigh and he takes her breasts in his hands and she can’t believe she’s ever been anywhere else but here, with him. She finds his lips with hers again and rubs her hips against him until he gasps into her mouth. He bites her lip. She can’t believe how good his hands feel, thumbs rubbing over her nipples, even through the fabric of her suit. 

Eventually, she reaches out and takes him in hand. He gasps again. 

“You don’t have to,” he says, very gentlemanly for someone he’s been humping her for at least thirty minutes. 

“I want to,” she whispers in his ear, then she starts kissing his neck and running her fist up and down his cock until he comes in his hand. He laughs, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“It’s usually not that embarrassingly fast,” he says. She rolls her eyes and grinds against him again, a silent reminder to return the favor. He catches on, slipping his fingers underneath her suit. He finishes the job almost as quickly as she did and she can’t help but scream his name, which makes him smile.

When she finally catches her breath, she climbs off him. She gets out of the water and walks toward her things piled in the corner.

“Where are you going?” he asks, following her out of the tub. She turns back and looks at him.

“It stopped raining.”

She takes out her goggles as Jaime opens the glass door. She dives into the pool, which is ice cold from the rain, but she welcomes it. She needs to cool off. The last few hours feel like a dream. This is real — swimming. 

She swims laps back and forth. Freestyle. Butterfly. Breaststroke. After backstroke, she finally stops and pulls herself onto the deck. She’d almost forgot she was at the Lannister house.

Jaime is sitting on the edge of the pool, his feet in the water, drinking iced tea. He puts the glass down.

“Do you wanna race?” he asks with a little smile. She rolls her eyes.

“No offense, but…” He laughs.

“I know you’re better than me,” he says, sliding into the water. “But now you’re tired out from all the laps, so maybe I’ll stand a chance.” She puts her goggles back on.

“You won’t.”

He doesn’t. She crushes him, but it just makes him laugh as he pushes his long, wet hair out of his face. 

“Again,” he says, and she can’t say no. But this time, he tackles her when she’s halfway across the pool, wrapping his arms around her waist and dragging her down. She kicks him in the face, mostly accidentally. They splutter to the surface, a tangle of limbs.

“You cheater!” she yells, dunking him under the water. When he surfaces, she says, “You played dirty!” He pulls her to him, running his nose down her jaw. 

“You like that I play dirty.”

She does.

—

The next day at work, they act like nothing’s changed. When she gets out of the pool in the morning, he’s watching her, but he doesn’t say anything. But when they both get off at 4, he finds her in the staff locker room.

“Got any plans tonight, mermaid?” She pouts at the nickname.

“No,” she admits. He looks like a predator, with his sharp white teeth.

“Wanna watch a movie? We can order pizza.”

They do order pizza and they do watch like half of a movie before the tension kills her and she reaches for him and she ends up giving him a blowjob on the couch in the basement. “Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit,” he chants right before he comes and she’s never felt sexier in her whole life, with this golden man falling to pieces because of her. 

She plops back on the couch and he kisses her, which is a surprise, and then he gets her out of her sweatpants, which is not. Maybe all that talking is good for something, because he is _ skilled _ with his tongue. She has to put a pillow over her mouth so she doesn’t scream, which only makes him more vigorous. When he’s done (when she’s done), he sits down on the couch next to her and kisses her again. She’s never hooked up with someone who would go down on her, let alone do it and make out with her after. Everything with Jaime feels unreal. 

She puts her pants back on and stands to leave. 

“Don’t you want to finish the movie?” he asks, looking wounded. She looks at the screen, where Liam Hemsworth’s face is paused mid sentence. 

“You paused the movie?” He looks at her like she’s the idiot as he presses play. She sits next to him and he puts his arm around until she is cuddled against his chest. As the summer goes on, she will slowly realize that this is Jaime’s favorite part — after, when she runs her hand through his hair and he uses his fingers to draw circles on her hip. 

They don’t see each other every night: Brienne has a steady babysitting gig that brings in some good cash, and the kids are really easy to deal with. But almost every other night she ends up at the Lannister mansion. On Tuesdays Jaime has a standing appointment with his little brother, Tyrion, who also works at the country club, but that just means she ends up jumping the fence in the back late every Tuesday night so they can still see each other. 

The first time she sneaks in is the first time they have proper sex. He dares her to go skinny dipping and everything about him makes her feel wreckless, so she agrees. He can’t believe she’s never done it before, especially since she’s on a swim team, but she’s never had friends with private pools before. She tries not to think about the other girls he’s skinny dipped with.

And after they kiss their brains in the shallow end, he whispers, “I want you,” and she whispers back, “So take me.”

They get out of the pool and he piles towels and pillows to make them a sort of nest (only rich people have outdoor pillows, she’ll think that night in bed when she relives it). She doesn’t tell him that she’s never done this part before, but it’s almost like he knows, he’s so tender and careful. He slides into her slowly, but it doesn’t really hurt, and he puts his hand between them so he can keep touching her as he drves in and out. She tries to remember that his family is inside in the house and it’s late and no one should hear them, but he has to catch her moans with his mouth so they don’t get caught. He looks terribly smug after she comes, but she can’t really blame him. She bites his shoulder anyway, and if anyone comments on the hickey at work the next day, she doesn’t hear them. 

After two weeks, she thinks she has a pretty good idea of the rules (not that they ever talk about them). They keep it a secret at work, so they don’t touch while they’re there. They act the same way they used to, bickering and rolling their eyes so no one gets suspicious. Sometimes she drives with him to his house when they get off at 4, but usually she’ll meet up with him later. She always uses the side door of the Lannister mansion, if she’s not hopping the fence. She doesn’t tell anyone she’s there. 

She keeps waiting for him to tell her they have to stop. Surely there are other girls, prettier girls, he could be doing this with. She’s like an addict — she’ll never be the one to end it, even if she knows that coming down from this high will be absolutely miserable. But he doesn’t end it either. 

She doesn’t even tell Sansa, who is thankfully studying abroad in Dorne this summer. She says to Brienne one day over FaceTime, “Do you know Jaime Lannister?” She almost chokes. 

“What? What? No...what?” Sansa squints at her through the phone. 

“His sister, Cersei, is in my program. She mentioned her brother is a lifeguard at the country club, I told her my friend was, too.” Brienne breaths. 

“Ugh yeah, he is,” she admits. Sansa is suspicious but she doesn’t ask anything else. 

And as soon as Brienne thinks she knows the rules, Jaime starts breaking them. He brings her iced coffee in the morning (she doesn’t know how he found out that she likes oat milk and simple syrup). Sometimes he gets her a green smoothie at lunch. None of the other lifeguards comment, but she knows they notice.

One day she’s trying to reapply her sunblock when he walks over. 

“Need a hand?” he asks. She glares at him, which makes him laugh. “Even a mermaid can’t reach her back,” he says and she squirts some into his palm, because he’s right and she always ends up with a burn at the base of her spine. 

Slowly, carefully, he rubs it into her back, taking care to go under all the convoluted straps of this stupid suit. She feels like she has goosebumps all over. She’s terrified that someone is looking at them and realizing what’s going on, but no one is. She leans into his touch. 

“What’s taking so long?” she says, half a moan, as he reaches her lower back. 

“That’s the thing about SPF 50,” he whispers into her ear. She hates him. “It takes a long time to rub in.”

When he goes on break, she finds him in the empty locker room and kisses him senseless until they hear Gendry opening the door and have to spring apart. 

In her saner moments, she tries to come up with excuses. It’s the heat. It’s the humidity. She’s just bored without Sansa and classes and swim practice. It’s hormones.

But she knows she’s lying to herself. The truth is she likes Jaime, genuinely likes him for him. not just as a hookup or a friend with benefit or whatever term he would put on the situation if she ever got up the nerve to ask him just what’s going on. 

One day when they’re off he texts her, “What are you up to today?”

“Busy,” she writes back. 

“Doing what?” She sighs. 

“Stuff.”

Three eye roll emojis. 

“I have my period,” she says, hoping he’ll just leave her alone. 

“What’s your address?” She tells him. An hour later he shows up with Motrin and fries and ice cream and chocolate and two bottles of wine and a rom com for him and a _ Star War _ for her ( _ Empire, _ obviously). He must see the confusion on her face because he says, “I have a twin sister,” as if that explains _ anything. _ “Aren’t you gonna let me in?” Of course she does. And she has to throw out two towels when, sometime after the first bottle of wine, they do decide to fool around and it does wonders for her cramps. She has a dream about Jaime being a vampire and it’s not _ not _hot.

One Tuesday in July he invites her to the movies with him and Tyrion. Tyrion works in the ice cream parlor at the club and has lots of funny stories about dickhead customers. He doesn’t ask Jaime why Brienne came and she wonders what Jaime told his 16-year-old brother — This is the girl I screw in the hot tub while we hope you’re asleep? But she also knows Jaime would never be that cruel. Maybe the Jaime she thought she knew at the beginning of the summer would be, but not the one she knows now. 

One day after work he takes her to his favorite burger place and she tells him about how she got injured last year, so this season is really important for her because if she can’t come back it’s basically the end of her swim career. He tells her how his hand got crushed during a soccer game in high school. The cleat pierced the skin and now he can’t fully feel all his fingers in his right hand. 

“I would have never guessed,” she says and he gives her this absolutely wicked smirk. She thinks of it later when he’s fingering her in the backseat of his car — with his left hand, she realizes. 

One day after work she goes off to the sort of fast fashion women’s clothing store she usually avoids and picks up a blue bikini. She feels stupid when she slips it on under her clothes before heading to the Lannister pool, but the look in Jaime’s eyes when he sees her in it is worth it. He doesn’t even pull it all the way down 

Sansa finally gets the truth out of her at the beginning of August. 

“Why do you never answer my calls? You can’t tell me you’re babysitting seven days a week!” Brienne chews on her lip, the surest sign that she can’t think of something to say. “Are you seeing someone?” Sansa asks. 

“Err...sort of.” Sansa squeals with delight, which is dampened when Brienne tells her the whole story. 

“Wait, wait,” Sansa says. “He told you he wanted to keep you a secret?”

“No,” Brienne admits. “It’s like an unspoken thing. It’s an understanding.”

“But he never takes you anywhere.” Brienne thinks of the burgers, the movies. 

“Well that’s not really true.”

“And he hasn’t told his family.” Brienne thinks of Tyrion. 

“No, his brother knows. I’m pretty sure.”

“Then you’re dating.” Brienne almost hurts her neck, shaking it so hard. 

“No, we’re not.” Sansa just gives her this look that Brienne can only assume she learned from her vaguely terrifying mother. 

“You’re gonna have to use your words, Brienne.” But she doesn’t understand: Brienne _ can’t. _ If she says to Jaime, “Are we dating?” and he says no — which _ he will _ — she’ll feel so stupid. It’s just a summer fling, and she shouldn’t make it more than it is. Better to keep it undefined so that when it ends in September her heart will be protected. 

The next night they’re cuddled on his basement couch and he’s telling her about when his mom died and how his siblings never get along and he always blames himself for all of it and she’s telling him about her mom and her brother and how distant her dad is and somewhere around 1 a.m. she realizes in absolutely no way is her heart protected from this man. 

Days later when she finishes her morning laps, she sees him reading her favorite book on a lounge chair with two iced coffees perched on the chair next to him. 

He notices her and gives her his most golden smile and she’s so fucked.

She tries to savor it as much as she can, the last few weeks. She doesn’t let him come to her apartment again; when it’s September it’ll be too hard to be there and to think of him spread out on her couch, in her bed. Better to keep him separate from her real life.

But she tries to memorize the feel of his chest hair, the way he moans “Brienne” when she teases his nipples, the way his tongue feels when it’s inside her. She doesn’t think she’ll ever have something like this again so she needs to remember every single detail for all the lonely nights to come.

The night before Sansa returns to King’s Landing, Brienne’s just insatiable. He convinces her to sit on _ his face, _which is terrifying for a moment until she realizes how much he’s enjoying it and she forgets she’s supposed to be quiet because his dad and his brother are somewhere upstairs. Then she bends herself over the couch so he can take her from behind and she just says, “I need you,” over and over again and he says, “I’m right here” and she wants to believe he always will be.

While they’re cuddling after (she wonders if you can get a couch dry cleaned), he mentions that he’s thinking about having a party for all of the lifeguards and pool attendants that weekend, to celebrate the end of summer.

“You’d come, right?” he says, running his hand through her hair the way she likes. “You can bring your friend Sansa.” She wonders if it’ll be easier if she says no, but she says yes.

Sansa wants to help her get dressed up for the party, do her makeup, try something with her hair, but Brienne refuses. No matter how many times she tells Sansa _ it’s not like that _, she doesn’t believe her. She convinces Brienne to wear an old blue sun dress, at least, but it’s a couple years old and definitely too short and Brienne feels self conscious, which is stupid when Jaime’s seen so much more of her. 

When they get to the Lannister house, the backyard is crazy crowded, with way more people than just the people from the pool, and the music is much too loud. Tyrion, bafflingly, is the one manning the bar.

“I think my sister invited a lot of her friends. Jaime said he didn’t want a whole big thing, but then our cousin showed up with his DJ equipment…” He makes them both very strong drinks. Brienne searches for Jaime, but it’s almost impossible with so many people. Then she finds him, sitting on one of the outdoor couches, with some _ tiny girl _ in his lap. One hand is on her waist and the other is holding a cup and she looks away before she throws up.

She knew it would end like this, but she’d never thought she’d literally have to witness it. Some beautiful girl he can show all his friends, who’s not a secret.

She finishes her drink and asks Tyrion for another. Sansa wants to know what’s wrong, but she can’t tell her. Tyrion, ever perceptive, pours them all shots, and she throws it back without thinking that a 16-year-old shouldn’t be drinking. She takes her big busy drink to the pool, where she sits down and puts her feet in the water. Sansa gets distracted talking to someone she met in Dorne, which is just fine. If she starts talking to Sansa she’ll start crying.

Distantly, she sees Jaime talking to another girl and another. She feels like she’s watching a movie of someone else’s life. When she stands up to get another drink from the bar, she realizes she is the drunkest she’s ever been and she finds she doesn’t mind.

Tyrion gives her a weird look as he pours her another drink. 

“Have you seen Jaime?” he asks her. She shakes her head and walks away again. She should just go home. She doesn’t need to be broken up with, she got the message. But where did Sansa go…

Someone grabs her arm. She turns. _ Jaime. _ She wrenches away from him, spilling her drink in the process.

“Hey!” he says, reaching for her again. She steps back. “I’ve been looking for you all night.”

“Sure,” she says, trying to walk away, but he keeps following her. And he’s more sober than she is, so she can’t shake him off.

“I was,” he says, trying to stop her. “People kept getting in the way.” She puts her drink down on a random table and heads for the gate. She just wants to get away from him, from this party, from everything they did in this cursed pool. 

“Don’t you have some girls to go talk to?” she spits at him, which isn’t fair, she knows, because they never promised each other anything so why is she crying?

“What girls?!” he says, sounding legitimately confused. They’re outside the backyard now, away from the party. “Are you going to talk to me or are you just going to run away?”

That finally gets her to stop walking. 

“It’s OK, Jaime,” she says, wiping her tears from her eyes with the backs of her hands. “I — go back to your party.” He walks around her so he can look in her face.

“I was looking for you all night,” he says. “People kept stopping me.” She shakes her head.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” she says, praying her traitorous eyes will stop leaking. Why did she drink so much? He slides his hands around her waist, holding her there.

“I’m not lying! What are you talking about?”

“Stop being so nice!” she yells, trying to get out of his grasp. He drops his arms away. “It’s my fault, OK? I knew this wasn’t serious and I knew it couldn’t last and I knew you’d leave me but I fell in love with you anyway like an idiot!” Now she really needs to run away.

He has the audacity to grin up at her, like the devil himself. 

“You love me?”

“Do I have to say it again?” She’s still crying.

“I love you,” he says. Her heart stops.

“What? Why wouldn’t you just say that?!” Do people hallucinate when they’re drunk? Maybe she never woke up from her afternoon nap.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he says instead.

“I kept waiting for you to dump me,” she admits.

“I kept waiting for _ you _ to dump _ me,” _ he answers. She shakes her head, the only reasonable response to nonsense.

“Why would I break up with you?” He finally looks away from her, his face half in the light from the party and half in shadow.

“I figured I was just the dumb jock you were getting off with, and you took pity on me enough to hang out sometimes.” She has never been more shocked in her life.

_ “You thought what?” _ she asks. He runs a hand through his hair.

“I mean, you always wanted to run away after —”

“I thought you didn’t want me around —”

“And you never wanted people at work to know —”

“I thought you were embarrassed by me.”

“No,” he says so firmly she has to believe him. “Why would I be embarrassed by you?” She gestures helplessly toward her body. 

“I’m ugly,” she says. He can’t stop himself then, wrapping his arms around her again. He shakes his head as he presses his mouth onto her shoulder. 

“No,” he says. “I think you’re so beautiful. From the first time I saw you in the pool. I couldn’t look away.” She wraps her arms around him, too. They stay like that for a long time. She feels both deeply grounded and impossibly light.

“I don’t want to go back to the party,” she admits. 

“Oh me neither,” he says with a laugh. He starts kissing her shoulder. 

“Then why’d you have a party?” 

“I just wanted to see if I could trick you into holding my hand in front of the lifeguards.” She giggles. “We could go to your place?”

“I can’t leave Sansa. And I think your brother’s drunk.” He sighs. 

“Maybe I’ll get Lancel to put on terrible music until everyone goes home.” He takes her hand and starts to lead her back.

“The music is already terrible.” He squeezes her hand. 

As soon as they reenter the backyard, Sansa is upon them. 

“Brienne, did you know my _ sister _ is here and she has a _ boyfriend? _Who is also here? Do you know him, Gendry, he —” She sees Jaime, suddenly. Her eyes fall to their linked hands.

“Sansa,” Brienne says. “This is Jaime.” She takes a breath. “My boyfriend.” She’s not sure whose smile is biggest, hers, Jaime’s or Sansa’s.

No, it’s Jaime’s.


End file.
